


Why the Rain was so Necessary

by JayBird345



Series: Why The Rain Was So Necessary [1]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Bad Elvish Translations, Elvish gifts, F/M, Growing Up, Illegitimacy, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Mix of Books and movies, No Spoilers, Not regarding Éomer Éadig/Lothíriel, Universe Alteration, Will Add More Tags as I Post More Chapters, With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-09-25 01:09:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17111612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JayBird345/pseuds/JayBird345
Summary: "May the flowers remind us why the rain was so necessary." - Xan OkuEach member of the line of the Prince's of Dol Amroth gets an elvish gift at a young age. Now Princess Lothíriel has to learn to navigate the Court of Minas Tirith with a seemingly useless gift, while trying to understand why her instincts and gift seem to be tying her fate to a baby from the land of the horselords.





	1. The Early Years - Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SavioBriion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SavioBriion/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages in this chapter are the following:  
> Imrahil - 55  
> Aeardîs - 45  
> Elphir - 23  
> Erchirion - 20  
> Amrothos - 16  
> Lothíriel - 11

**Chapter 1: T. A. 3010**

 

* * *

_Elven and human unions have always been rare, due to those relationships being fraught with tragedy and doom. The line of the Princes of Dol Amroth is no exception; while very little is known about the Elven maiden Mithrellas, who chose_ _Imrazôra, a man of Gondor as her husband, the **gifts** her Elven blood has granted her descendants ensure that she is never forgotten. _

* * *

 

Gentle hands trembled slightly as they adjusted and pinned back curly dark hair. Their bearer’s soothing voice hid any nervousness their hands had betrayed, as each pin was artfully put back into place.

 

“How on Arda did you manage to get your hair so messy in such a short time, Lothíriel? It was only a ten-minute walk from our rooms to the Waiting Hall and yet, you have somehow managed to loosen every pin in your hair. You look more like you have just stepped off a boat, rather than finish a leisurely family stroll to the hall.”

 

Lothíriel held back a sigh as her naneth adjusted her hair one last time before moving on to fix the collar of her eldest brother.  It wasn’t her fault that she had been cursed with the uncontrollable curls of her late grandmother, which poked out of the traditional Gondorian hairstyles.   

 

Elphir stood still, ever the dutiful son, as their naneth fussed and primped him up, yet Lothíriel could not help but worry for him and Amrothos. Much like Aunt Finduilas, their health deteriorated the longer they were away from the sea. Her parents had both promised her that the “sea-longing”, a frankly simplistic way of calling their sickness, in Lothíriel’s opinion, didn’t set in that quickly.

 

‘I suppose they have a point,’ she mused, ‘Aunt Finduilas didn’t start getting sick till she had been in Minas Tirith for almost a year, yet…’

 

Lothíriel could see through the nearby window a dark, ominous cloud hovering unnaturally over Mount Doom in the horizon. The sight frightened her, as no matter how hard the wind would blow, the clouds would not drift away from their spot.

 

She had heard many a soldier and courtier gossip about it in hushed tones, as if speaking about the strange clouds plainly would call upon a curse to befall them. Lothíriel had even heard one lady of the court gossip to her naneth that many believed it was the shadow and not the sea-longing, that had killed the Steward’s wife.

 

‘I wonder if that rumour is true, after all, it’s not even been a fortnight and there has been a marked difference in Elphir and Amrothos behaviour.’ She felt her mood drop as she recalled how Amrothos had begun to complain of a slight headache earlier in the day, while Elphir had taken to staring in the direction of the sea from every window more frequently.

 

Glancing at her naneth’s calm, beautiful face, Lothíriel promised herself to be more like her, a proper lady of Dol Amroth.

 

“Now remember, your uncle may seem like he is in a dark mood, but it is solely due to the pressure he is under. Things haven't been well here in Minas Tirith, as they have back home.”

 

Amrothos scowled at the remark, slumping against the pillar by the door and pulling out a small knife to fiddle with. He had been the most vocal in not coming to Minas Tirith and the least happy to see their father become the new Prince of Dol Amroth.

 

“Why are we having the ceremony for adar here in Minas Tirith? Shouldn't the new Prince of Dol Amroth be sworn in … oh, I don’t know, Dol Amroth?”

 

Naneth finished doing one last adjustment to Elphir’s collar before gliding elegantly towards her youngest son. She smiled serenely as she carefully took the small knife from his hands before yanking him into a more upright manner.

 

“A Prince never slouches, Amrothos. Remember, he must always present an air that is both regal and proud. This is a very important day for our family and your adar is counting on all of you to uphold the honour of our family name.”

 

Lothíriel hid a giggle as Amrothos pulled a face at her before schooling his expression into a more acceptable one befitting his status.

 

“Yes, naneth.”

 

“It is a tradition for the Prince to be sworn-in, in the capital city. Imrahil must renew his vows to the Steward and reaffirm the agreement between us, as decreed by the first Prince of Dol Amroth. After being sworn-in, with the witnesses being the Royal Family of Dol Amroth and the High Lords of Gondor, there will be a small feast in his honour.”

 

Here, Lothíriel noted, her naneth hesitated, before continuing to lecture Amrothos as she straightened his sleeves and collar.

 

“However, considering the state of the city I don’t believe the traditional feast will be -”

 

One of the guards by the door must have signalled her naneth since she suddenly stopped what she was saying and began rushing to get them all in line from eldest to youngest. Lothíriel watched Amrothos groan again as he was suddenly dragged to stand behind Erchirion.

 

Not a moment later, and the doors opened, allowing Lothíriel to see her adar standing in front of a marble desk where her Lord Uncle loomed from his throne-like chair. There were a few other finely dressed Lords in the room, standing around the sides of the table, each looking slightly wan and pinched with exhaustion. It seemed to her that things must be worse than her naneth was saying since even the High Lords of Gondor looked visibly marked from the war.  They gave a short bow as her family entered, each one smiling at her naneth and making note of how Lothíriel and her brothers had grown since the last time they had seen them.

 

“Princess Aeardîs, I welcome you and your children to Minas Tirith.”

 

Naneth curtsied delicately before moving to stand beside her husband. Lothíriel and her brothers remained standing in a line in front of the desk beside their parents.

 

“Thank you, Lord Denethor. I-”

 

Her uncle scowled at her naneth and waved his hand to interrupt her reply.

 

“No need to waste the day with formalities - we have no other court ladies here to impress. Now, let us get to the heart of the matter.”

 

Shuffling a few papers, he brought out a large stack of formal documents.

 

“Unfortunately, my son was unable to come and stand as a witness, as he is off defending our city from those blasted orcs, but I have his signature on the document regardless. Imrahil, you will need to…”

 

Lothíriel felt herself drift off into her own thoughts as her uncle's voice droned on, even if it was occasionally interrupted by her parents and the other Lords. From the corner of her eye, she could see Amrothos fidgeting and be lightly nudged by Erchirion to stay still. Elphir, of course, was standing with his back straight and seemed to be following the procession of papers and speeches keenly, yet Lothíriel felt a pang of concern at the slight pale pallor of his face.

 

‘So much has changed since Grandfather died…Adar being busier and sadder, naneth trying to fill in the gaps adar left behind while still managing the courts and courtiers, Elphir having more responsibilities and Erchirion taking over some of Elphir’s old duties. Only Amrothos and I have managed to escape any pressing changes.’ Repressing a sigh, Lothíriel subtly played with a piece from her dress.

 

If she was being completely honest with herself, Lothíriel knew she wasn’t upset for the right reasons, regarding her grandfather’s death. She had hardly ever seen him and had rarely spoken with him when in his presence. The former Prince had been too busy with her parents and Elphir to take much notice of herself and Erchirion. They had been more strangers than family, with the only exception being Amrothos, who had been Prince Adrahil’s unofficial favourite grandchild.

 

‘I wish grandfather hadn’t died, then we wouldn’t be here, and my brothers wouldn’t be in danger of getting sick and my parents wouldn’t be so stressed.’ Lothíriel could not suppress the guilt she felt at thinking those damning thoughts.

 

Subtly glancing around the room once more, Lothíriel’s interest was caught by a half-hidden painting in the corner. A victorious battlefield at twilight was depicted, with the soldiers leaving the scene; some were drinking, others gathering supplies and a small group were gathering the bodies of the dead. Among the men gathering the bodies, a maiden fair sat by a discarded shield and sword, she was catching her tears with cupped hands as her eyes pierced the viewer with unspoken grief. Nienna, The Valar of Mercy and Mourning.

 

‘The Valar most invoked during wartime by widows and orphans...no wonder it’s half hidden away.’ Lothíriel turned her gaze back to her uncle, trying to understand why a man such as himself would have that painting in his office.

 

Her uncle’s hair was impeccable, combed back and flattering his ageing face. His skin was a bit wan and marked with stress, but he still had a presence of strength. His clothes were suitable for his station, if not quite fashionable and some pieces were dyed in the traditional colours of mourning, an obvious sign that her uncle still longed for her aunt.  

 

‘Mayhap it’s not strange at all to see that painting in this office, even if it is half hidden away in a corner of the room.’ For a moment, Lothíriel felt she understood the Steward a little bit better than she did before, and was strangely happy to glimpse at a sign, that under all that intense determination and cunning was a man she could come to see as an uncle.

 

* * *

 

“-it's done. Congratulations, Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth.”

 

Snapping back to attention at those words, Lothíriel watched in puzzlement as her uncle brought out a large map of Gondor. The other Lords gave a few quick words of congratulations before leaning in closer to look over the map. They each began to place small tokens on the map and quietly discussed where shipments of men and cargo were needed.

 

“You're right, Lord Ohtar, the left flank is looking weak. Imrahil, now that you are Prince of Dol Amroth, we can talk more about your Swan Knights and the tactical positions you should be moving them into. My son needs support from all of Gondor’s subjects -”

 

“Wait, that's it?”  Amrothos grumbled, a little too loudly and catching the attention of the Lords in the room. Her uncle grew colder and harder as he stared piercingly at her brother.

 

Lothíriel suddenly recalled something she had been told by her governess; that her impulsive ways could rival Amrothos at his most foolhardy. However, at that moment, she felt with great certainty that there was nothing she could ever do that would top getting the Steward of Gondor so furious.

 

 Her adar straightened slightly at the change in the mood of the room, quickly angling his body to look over at her brother. The other Lords in the room exchanged slightly disapproving glances as the silence deepened.

 

“Amrothos.” Her adar quietly muttered, missing the worried look her naneth had given him.

 

“What, _exactly_ , did you think would happen, boy? That we would host the traditional large feast to celebrate the new Prince, using up precious resources that this city cannot afford to waste?”

 

She couldn’t stop her flinch as the Steward stood up and made his way around the table, each step echoing in the cold hall.

 

 “That we would gorge ourselves on food and drink when my subjects ration their food daily just so our soldiers won’t starve in the battlegrounds? And for what? Your family’s vanity?”

 

Lothíriel slowly inched behind Amrothos, trying to make herself as small as possible as her uncle’s voice grew colder and harsher.  

 

“I-I just meant… I’m sorry sir, I didn’t think to-”

 

Lord Denethor loomed over Amrothos, forcing himself into her brother’s space and causing him to step back and nearly trip over Lothíriel.

 

“ _Clearly_. If you had bothered to think you would have known better than to spew such senseless nonsense.”

 

Amrothos’ face grew paler at his words, flinching in shame as the Lords around him looked apathetic to his situation. Lothíriel winced as her naneth stepped forward, giving a low curtsy to the Steward before stepping to stand next to Amrothos.

 

“Good brother, he's just a boy and did not mean to-”

 

The Steward turned his ferocious look towards her, sneering at her naneth’s attempt to pacify him.

 

“When _Boromir_ was his age, he knew better than to make such thoughtless remarks. In fact, _my_ son was already a gifted leader, blooded in battle and hailed as a bringer of strategic victories against those Valar-cursed Orcs.” He shifted his glare back towards Amrothos as he continued to sing the praises of Gondor’s golden son.

 

“He was respectful and knowledgeable about the financial state of our city and knew better than to waste precious food and drink on family vanity.” Though her Lord Uncle was replying to her naneth, Lothíriel cringed at how he continued to press forward into Amrothos space and practically spat his words in his face.

 

The other High Lords murmured their agreement to the Steward’s remarks. While Lothíriel didn’t agree with how he was making her brother seem insignificant in comparison, she did agree that her cousin was a man like no other.

 

“Speaking of value in the war effort, what is your particular _gift_ , nephew? Have you been blessed with something to aid Gondor in her battles and make up for your lack in tact? Or have you proven to be as equally disappointing in your gift as you have proven to be in thinking?”

 

The High Lords quickly began to use her uncle’s words as a long-awaited opening to raise their interest in knowing all the children’s gifts. Her adar gripped his hands tightly behind his back at the spectacle that this whole situation was turning out to be, as naneth reached out and pulled Lothíriel closer to herself.

 

Moments like these always made Lothíriel feel uncomfortable; she hated the way the people, whether they be noble or not, always reacted to her family’s gifts. With gazes of fear or awe, they grew to only view her family as extensions of their gifts and forgot everything else about them. Her adar stepped forward and offered to present all their gifts, from his own to Lothíriel’s.

 

* * *

 

Her adar’s offer was approved, and after a few moments to call upon a scribe for an official recording of their gifts, along with a few refreshments for the Lords and Steward, they were ready to begin.

 

“As you well know, Lord Denethor, my gift is the ability to being able to predict where the next blow will strike in battle.”

 

Lothíriel just managed to see a faint twitch of the Stewards lips and a slight softening in his cold, dark eyes.

 

‘It’s little things like these that make me wish my aunt were still here. What kind of man would the Steward be, I wonder if she were still by his side?’

 

Lothíriel could not deny that for all that her uncle appeared stoic and cold to the public, he certainly respected and seemed to soften around her adar.

 

“A most valuable gift that has served Gondor and her armies well. Your gift has made the Swan Knights the most skilled cavalry in Gondor’s armies, and I hope to see more successful campaigns in the future.”

 

“It has been my honour, Lord Denethor.”

 

Bowing slightly at the praise, her adar gave a little gesture, prompting her eldest brother to walk closer to present his gift. He gave a quick bow and kept silent as his gift was explained.

 

“My eldest, Elphir, has been blessed with a sea-touched gift, it -”

 

A thin looking lord, with a long face and a strange look in his eye, quickly interrupted her adar, asking for clarification on the term he used.

 

“Forgive me, Prince Imrahil, but what is a _sea-touched_ gift?”

 

“Excellent question Lord Hiwdir, it means that his gift is tied to the sea and thus is stronger the closer he is to it. My son has the gift of being able to predict the weather accurately. His range is currently two weeks of accurate weather, though we have noted that he is able to see further in the future, the closer he is to the sea.”

 

Lord Denethor had looked pensive during this exchange, but Lothíriel noted that he had gotten an almost concerned look at hearing adar’s explanation.

 

“Sea-touched… He is like my wife then?”

 

A heavy pause filled the room, as everyone took a moment to remember her late Aunt Finduilas. Her adar seemed to age a bit, as he shared a look of grief with her naneth, before answering the Steward.

 

“Yes, my lord. Both Elphir and Amrothos have sea-touched gifts like my late sister did.”

 

“.... I see, proceed.”

 

Lothíriel shifted away from her naneth, trying to subtly study the lord’s faces when they learn the next part of her brother’s gift.

 

“Much like my own did, Elphir’s gift has begun to show signs of maturing. Our family has perfected over the generations different training regimes about nurturing our abilities to the fullest. We believe that one-day Elphir will be able to tell where the enemy is positioned on water.”

 

The High Lords looked amazed at such a skill and quickly began to praise her brother’s gift, each one making a different remark on its usefulness and how their armies would benefit of having Elphir train with them.

 

“My cavalry, which is currently stationed in Osgiliath, would benefit from having prince Elphir join them for a few days-”

 

“Surely you jest Lord Hiwdir! My men are currently a part of Lord Boromir’s campaign and thus would benefit the most from such a skill!”

 

Lothíriel struggled not to show any outward signs of disgust as the High Lords began to squabble over which campaign or stationed army would most benefit from her brother’s gift.

 

‘I knew it. This always happens, every single time! In their greed to possess my brother’s gift for their armies, these lords have probably forgotten that Elphir, as heir, has to be mostly trained by the Swan Knights.’

 

The Steward loudly cleared his throat before addressing the argument at hand, “We will discuss placing the princes of Dol Amroth in different campaigns at a later date.”

 

Once the lords had quietened down, he turned to give an almost smile to Elphir.

 

“I congratulate you nephew, such a skill will be valuable for Gondor, especially with any sea-based attack. Make sure to leave at least a page of your predictions, before your departure to Dol Amroth.”

 

“Yes, my Lord.” Stepping aside, Lothíriel watched Elphir glance at a window in longing as he made room for her second eldest brother. Erchirion also gave a short bow, as her adar presented his gift.

 

“My second eldest, Erchirion, has a gift more like my own; he is able to predict where the next attack by an army or group of warriors will be, unlike my own which is regarding individual attacks. However, it currently drains him to use his gift more than three times in a long campaign.”

 

Once more, the High Lords began to remark on the usefulness of such a skill, looking at her brothers with excitement that frightened her. As the second son, it would be easier for these High Lords to maneuver their daughters for a potential alliance, as Erchirion would have more freedoms in making his choice for a bride, than Elphir.

 

Her uncle again seemed to soften for a second, before he complimented Erchirion on his gift,

 

“Your father made a name for himself as a skilled leader with his gift. Considering yours is so like his, the expectations on you will be heavy, however, I know that as my nephew, you will be able to rise to the occasion.”

 

Erchirion bowed before moving to make room for Amrothos turn. Lothíriel inched closer to Amrothos, noting that her brother’s hands were balled up in tight fists to hide the slight tremor in them.

 

‘Is he nervous? Or is that a symptom of his sea-longing?’

 

Her other sea-touched brother, Elphir, wasn’t fairing much better either. Elphir’s eyes were completely focused on the window behind their uncle’s chair, his dark grey eyes lightening into a silver colour with every second. Her naneth had also noticed his enthrallment and managed to gently pull him back from his gift with a light touch to his hands.

 

‘Please let Amrothos presentation be quick, I just want to go back to our rooms and stay away from these lords.’ Lothíriel prayed that one of the Valar would heed her plea.

 

Lord Denethor’s stare grew colder as he looked down upon at her youngest brother. Bowing to their Steward, her adar presented his youngest son’s gift.

 

“My youngest son, Amrothos, has the sea-touched gift of being able to sense and track any sea-based animal. His gift has aided the people of Dol Amroth, stopping them from wasting resources in searching for fish and ensuring that we and the nearby towns do not run out of shipments of seafood for themselves and the soldiers stationed there.”

 

Unlike the previous times, her adar made sure to emphasize the value of her brother’s gift. Lothíriel could not help but admire how he ensured that Lord Denethor could not shame her brother on his gift, as her cousin Boromir and his men, had occasionally rested in those towns, and had sent reports praising the hospitality they had enjoyed while stationed there.

 

“...A useful skill, to be sure. Has it too, showing signs of developing, like his other brothers?”

 

“Yes, we believe with enough practice, one-day Amrothos will be able to assist in harvesting the precious pearls from our sea by being able to point out which oysters have a pearl, and which do not.”

 

“Hmm.”

 

In contrast to the Steward’s neutral reaction, Lord Ohtar, Lord Hiwdir and the other lords broke into praises and began to ask her adar further questions on the fine details of her brother’s gift.

 

Keeping quiet, her adar patiently waited for a moment of silence before presenting Lothíriel and her gift to the High Lords.

 

“And finally, but certainly not least, my only daughter, Lothíriel. She has a special gift which allows her to see the lineage of any person that should cross her sight.”

 

Lord Denethor snorted lightly at her gift, while the other High Lord's chuckled condescendingly.

 

“Following in your Lady Aunt's footsteps I see? Perhaps Lady Ivriniel’s workload as the matchmaker of Minas Tirith will be eased with such a gift.”

 

Lothíriel hid a flinch as the Steward looked down his nose at her. His mocking tone making clear what he thought about the value her gift could provide for Gondor.

 

“Truly an excellent gift for a future Lady of the Court!”

 

Lord Ohtar’s booming voice echoed as he stepped towards her; the other Lord's behind him either gave her a polite pitying look or made snide remarks under their breaths.

 

“Your family is most gifted, Prince Imrahil, but now that the presentations are over, perhaps they will be more comfortable if the boys join the soldiers in the training grounds and the women join my wife and daughters in the solar where they can pursue… womanly matters.”

 

Lothíriel narrowed her eyes as the other lords began to murmur their agreement to such a plan. She clenched her jaw at their unflattering remarks on the weakness of women and their place in the world. The way these Lords talked about her naneth with such flippancy, as if she were irrelevant, just set her temper a flame.

 

“Such frail ladies shouldn't be exposed to such trying matters as war! Besides I'm certain much of this conversation would be beyond them to comprehend.”

 

‘Lord Ohtar oversteps himself,’ she internally sneered, ‘His condescending manner is insulting to my naneth. How dare he treat her as if she weren't one of the most powerful women in Dol Amroth and the whole of Gondor itself!’

 

Before her marriage, naneth had been part of a convoy which had been attacked by corsairs. It had taken the combined wits of herself, the second mate and the wounded cabin boy to save themselves from dying at the hands of those scoundrels. Her naneth was more than tough enough to handle their boring war talk.

 

‘And I am strong enough as well! I come from a line of warriors and their courage flows through my blood. I am my adar’s daughter just as much as I am my naneth's daughter.’ Lothíriel fumed, keeping her stance straight and her chin held high. She wouldn't let herself shrink before these High Lords.

 

Lord Ohtar’s eyes flashed as he looked at her naneth, darkening with that elusive emotion, Lothíriel still didn’t fully understand; _desire_.

 

‘How dare he look at naneth like that!’

 

In her rage, Lothíriel gave into impulse and closed her eyes before flaring them open. Using her gift, she _gazed_ through Lord Ohtar and into his lineage.

 

Noblemen and women flashed before her eyes, bringing a piercing pain to her head. Trying to focus on the images, Lothíriel narrowed her gaze on to his immediate family.

 

 Lord Ohtar - a descendant of an old bloodline - married to a gentlewoman - strong lineage - three older daughters - two married with children, one still unattached - all three were neglected by him, he has two sons - one married with a child on the way, one unattached - ... No, wait… there was one more child.

 

Feeling the pain build up, Lothíriel pushed a little more, as she bit her lip in concentration.

Another child not born to his wife, younger than his daughters and oldest son, but older than his second legitimate son. His mother was not a noble- coming instead from a line of hard-working weavers - she was dead, illness took her when her child was young- he has his mother's colouring but looks like the spitting image of his father.

 

“Your sons are of course, welcome to test their mettle against my boys, who as you know, are two of the finest-”

 

“Three.”

 

A confused look passed Lord Ohtar’s face as he looked down upon her. Her adar tensed up slightly as her naneth reached out and gently pressed her hand against her shoulder, silently reminding her to keep her tongue in check.

 

Unfortunately for all involved, Lothíriel had reached the limit of her patience and couldn't help herself from correcting him even further.

 

“You have three sons, my Lord. Two of which are fine captains and another who is steadily rising in the ranks. He favours you greatly through his colouring comes from his mother; truly his hair is the prettiest chestnut shade I've ever seen.”

 

Everyone knew that his wife had the darkest colour of black among the ladies of Minas Tirith. She had been renowned for her beautiful hair colour when she was a young maiden and was still considered a great beauty, even in her twilight years.  Lord Ohtar himself, on the other hand, had the standard Númenórean looks - thinning black hair and dark grey eyes. The swift realization of what she was implying passed over his face as the other Lords starred in horror at such remarks coming from her mouth. Lord Ohtar sputtered uselessly as he quickly grew red in the face, though whether it was from embarrassment or rage, Lothíriel couldn't tell.

Her Lord Uncle smirked from his chair, before standing to gain the attention of the room again.

"Perhaps your gift will keep more of my nobles occupied then I first thought, niece. However, Lord Ohtar is correct and we have a war to discuss. Lady Aeardîs, you and your children are dismissed. Prince Imrahil, I need to know -"

 

Naneth lightly pulled Lothíriel away, making sure to keep her body in between her children and the red-faced High Lord. She herded her children out the doors and down the corridors until they reached her personal chambers. Lothíriel had never seen her naneth so upset as she scolded her and Amrothos for their tactless words and biting comments.

Lothíriel didn't regret her actions, even if she was being banned from riding her pony for the next few days.

 

* * *

 

A welcome side effect to her little outburst was that Lord Ohtar had since decided to avoid Lothíriel for the rest of her stay in Minas Tirith, along with many other Lords who were rumoured to be… _robust_ in their love of female company. Many men did not wish to know if they had any bastards running around the city.

 

In contrast to such avoidance from the menfolk, many Ladies of the Court invited her and her naneth to have tea with them. They appeared to wish for her advice in matchmaking for their children while subtly asking if any _indiscretion_ of their husbands threatened the family honour and their social reputation.

 

Lothíriel soon learned that after she had stained the honour of Lord Ohtar with her remark of his bastard son, a pub brawl had broken out in the lower city. A soldier was badly wounded trying to keep the peace and was unable to join her cousin Boromir's personal guard.

Through overhearing the gossiping maids, Lothíriel found out that the soldier wounded was the one she had claimed to be Lord Ohtar's bastard. Her horror at what her words had done silenced Lothíriel better than any scolding. She quickly began to misdirect and sidestep any attempts on her announcing more bastard children, with her naneth’s help. The idea of innocent men, women and children being harmed by their lordly fathers, or the jealous ladies married to said lords, all due to a past indiscretion being revealed by Lothíriel, was more than she could bear.

 

Using whatever influence her family had in Minas Tirith, Lothíriel ensured, at the very least, that the injured soldier would receive some care. Lothíriel was determined to make sure that his time as a soldier wouldn't end due to the selfish actions of a lord or lady's jealousy and shame.

Her continued reluctance to reveal more illegitimate children only set more lords and ladies of the court further on edge, each dreading the thought of family indiscretions being aired to their political rivals; while others grew more excited at the chance of another scandal and rival nobles falling from grace. Their imaginings of who wasn't truly so-and-so's child or that their lineage wasn't as pure as they claimed, kept the busybodies ravenous for any morsel of gossip that Lothíriel could prove true. Almost all could agree though, that a gift like hers could give the Court a much-needed distraction from the reality of the looming war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Arda – The World
> 
> Dol Amroth - Capital of the province of Belfalas in Gondor, a combination of Dol “head, hill” and the name Amroth, hence: “*Hill of Amroth”.
> 
> Gondor - The name Gondor was likely adopted from the lesser people's terminology and translates from Sindarin as "Stone-land", from the words gond, "stone", and (n)dor, "land". Gondor received its name because of the abundance of stone in the Ered Nimrais, and the usage of it in great stone cities, statues, and monuments, such as Minas Tirith and the Argonath.
> 
> Minas Tirith - 'Tower of Watch', the great 'home' of Finrod, a fort built on an island in Sirion and intended to command access into Beleriand from the North
> 
> Adar - Father
> 
> Naneth – Mother
> 
> Valar – The Valar are a group of immensely powerful spirits guarding the world on behalf of its Creator; they are sometimes called Gods (as when Valacirca, q.v., is translated "Sickle of the Gods"), but this is strictly wrong according to Christian terminology: the Valar were created beings.
> 
> gifts – refers to the powers/abilities manifested from the blood of an elvish/human union
> 
> Sea-touched gift – refers to abilities tied to the sea/water
> 
> Sea-longing – Symptoms that arise when a bearer of a sea-touched gift is away from the sea for too long.  
> High Lords of Gondor – Prominent noblemen with the most influence and wealth in all of Gondor.  
> Ladies of the Court – Noblewomen with influential families, great wealth and status who influence fashion, politics and marriages


	2. Early Years: Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ages in this chapter are the following :  
> Ivriniel - 63  
> Imrahil - 55  
> Aeardîs - 45  
> Elphir - 23  
> Eirien - 21  
> Erchirion - 20  
> Amrothos - 16  
> Lothíriel - 11

** Chapter 2: T.A. 3010 **

 

* * *

 

A week had passed since they returned to Dol Amroth, and yet what had happened with the illegitimate wounded soldier- ‘Damrod, his name is Damrod’ she reminded herself- continued to haunt her. Sighing in frustration at her lack of focus, Lothíriel completed the corner stitches and finished her embroidering of a swan in flight.

 

“It is to be expected, Thíri,” Erchirion said comfortingly. He was the quietest of her brothers, but that just meant that when he did speak, everyone stopped to listen.

 

Lothíriel slowly placed her embroidery down as she turned to glance at him. He was sitting nearby, with a book dangling loosely from his hands.  

 

“You have the power to undo reputations and lineages with a few short words.” Erchirion moved to sit next to her and playfully tugged on one of Lothíriel’s loose curls, sticking out once again from her braided hair.

 

“Your gift might not be as useful during wartime, but like Aunt Ivriniel, you will hold much power during peacetime.”

 

Leaning into his hand, Lothíriel smiled gratefully as her brother gently caressed her hair.

 

“You have a gentle heart sister; many of adar’s men have begun to whisper of your kindness towards Damrod of Minas Tirith.”

 

Erchirion smiled fondly as she grimaced in unease, before giving her forehead a kiss in comfort.

 

“I know you feel like it was your fault he was hurt, and I am not saying you did not have a hand in his injury. However, you showed your mettle and took responsibility for your carelessly spoken words.”

 

Embarrassed and ashamed in equal measure of the damage she had caused the young soldier, Lothíriel felt a strong urge to explain her actions. In her mind, she had done nothing to deserve praise.

 

“Chiron, ensuring that the man got a good healer to aid his recovery and seeing that he received wages for the days he would not be able to work was the very least I could do!”

 

Cuddling her close, Lothíriel could not help but pout as her brother chuckled at her words. She didn’t think she had said anything worth laughing about.

 

“Erchirion is right, Thíri.”  Her youngest brother munched on a bright red apple as he grinned at her from his spot on the windowsill. He had been drained of energy during the last few days in Minas Tirith, haunting the city walls as he gazed out towards the direction of the sea when he wasn't working his body to the bone in the training fields. It was good to see his health much improved now that he was back home.

 

“You helped a man out when you could have washed your hands of the whole affair. No need to pout, Thíri, you should smile and laugh instead.”

 

Amrothos grin grew as she glanced at him from Erchirion’s arms.

 

“You, my sweet sister, haven't even seen your twelfth summer, yet you are the scariest thing those Lords and Ladies have ever seen grace their halls. You shouldn't hide your gift but embrace and flaunt it instead. You've been blessed with power, if others are so stupid as to be intimidated by a mere slip of a girl, then that's their problem, not yours.”

 

Scowling at his laughing face, Lothíriel stepped out of Erchirion’s embrace and went back to her embroidery. Though annoyed at his words, a part of her couldn't help feeling hurt.

 

“ _Enough_. Amrothos you should learn to curb your tongue. Maybe you wouldn't get into so much trouble if you learned to choose your words more wisely.” Elphir snapped, frowning as he strolled into the room; his gaze focused on the window.

 

His eyes nearly glowed in the light, revealing that they had changed to a pure silver colour. Lothíriel wondered if her eyes looked just as eerie when she _gazed_ into people, as she had been told that everyone’s eyes in her family turned silver when using their gift.

 

Reaching Amrothos, he quickly dragged him off the windowsill and shut it with a snap.

 

“Hey! Elphir!”

 

Lothíriel couldn't help but smile as Elphir smacked the back of Amrothos head. His eyes were back to their familiar dark grey.

 

“You are supposed to be more mature than this. Act your age.”

 

Ignoring Amrothos’ mocking expression, Elphir turned to address herself and Erchirion.

 

“A storm is coming, a big one. Erchirion, notify the servants to latch all the windows and lock all the doors. The winds will be extra harsh, and much will be lost if not secured properly. I'll go and warn naneth and adar. Once you are done take Amrothos with you and warn the sailors and Swan Knights.”

 

Erchirion sprang into action and dragged Amrothos with him as her three brothers left the room. Amrothos couldn't help but tease her one last time, reminding her to go stay in her room like a proper little princess.

 

Scowling at his retreating back, Lothíriel picked up her finished embroidery and laid it on a nearby table with a quick note to her naneth, saying she was visiting Aunt Ivriniel.

 

Luckily her aunt didn't live too far away from the castle, just a few minutes away by horse. Aunt Ivriniel had never been one to intrude in her brother’s home, preferring to manage her own the minute she was old enough, although she never married.

 

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Lothíriel looked around to ensure no well-meaning servant or visiting Lady was around. The last thing she wanted was to have a nursemaid following her about to her aunt's house.

 

Seeing the hallway abandoned, she quickly made her way to the door, out to the front courtyard and down the street.

 

To think that there was a time where Lothíriel had been intimidated by her aunt, and now here she was, willingly making her way to her home. Watching the leaves rain down from the trees, Lothíriel was reminded of the day she got her gift and stopped fearing her aunt.

 

* * *

 

 

_“When will I get my gift?”_

 

_Warm hands had ruffled her hair as she looked beseechingly at her adar._

 

_“Soon, my flower; you just have to be patient.”_

 

_Lothíriel had pouted in frustration at that remark. Her childish self was too jealous of her brothers, already playing and developing their gifts._

 

_“But Amrothos already has his gift!”_

 

_Gentle chuckles filled the room as her parents looked fondly at her small form._

 

_“Thíri, you are but four summers, and Amrothos is nine summers. Of course, he already has his gift. Don't worry, one day when you are a little older, you'll have your own special gift. You just have to listen to your adar and be patient.”_

 

_Lothíriel had stomped her foot in frustration at hearing her naneth’s words, tears threatening to spill from her eyes._

 

_“It's not fair, naneth! I don't want to wait for my gift, I want it right now.” _

 

_Soft hands had caressed her hair as the smell of jasmine filled her nose. Her naneth’s hugs were always soothing for Lothíriel, a weakness she shared with Elphir._

 

_“You shouldn't rush to grow up and get your gift, my love. Enjoy being free from its burden, for like the circlets your father and I wear, it is deceptive in its weight and responsibility.”_

 

_Lothíriel had not understood her naneth’s words that day and instead had pouted fiercely at her parents. She had felt upset at the injustice of the world and had snuck out without telling anyone, into the courtyard to play._

 

_The flowers had blossomed that week, the wind ripping them from the branches and making them rain down like snow._

 

_Lothíriel had reluctantly smiled at the sight, before closing her eyes and twirling about the falling petals. Twirling faster and faster, she had beamed at the sensation before falling onto the ground in a burst of giggles. Feeling daring, she had made her way onto one of the stone benches and began to jump and dance about on top of it._

 

_A worried shout had startled her from her merriment as the sound of running leather boots had grown louder. Lothíriel had glanced around, her eyes trying to find who had been calling out. In the distance she could see a servant boy, no older than Erchirion, running straight towards her in concern._

 

_Lothíriel remembered starting to twirl about again absent-mindedly, no longer concerned about why the servant boy was shouting. It had been her third spin when suddenly her heart began to throb painfully, and her heartbeat began to echo loudly in her ears. Her entire body seemed to abruptly fill with energy unlike any she had ever felt before, scaring her into taking a step backwards, towards the edge of the stone bench. Unfortunately, the petals had made everything slippery, causing her to fall off the edge and hit her head on the cobbled floor._

 

_Darkness with bursts of lights flashed before her eyes, along with visions of different men and women with the same features as the panicking servant boy above her. The seemingly never-ending images of people sickened Lothíriel something fierce, causing her lunch to make an unpleasant reappearance, as she had rolled to her side._

 

_Moisture had dripped from her nose and her eyes had watered in pain. Just as she had thought this nightmare would never end, she suddenly fell into deep darkness._

 

_Time had become nonexistent for her as she floated in that endless dark void. Lothíriel would be later told that she had slept for three days before awakening to the sound of prayers being muttered by her naneth and aunt._

 

_Disastrously, the moment Lothíriel had opened her eyes, she had begun to scream and writhe in agony as her naneth’s lineage was revealed before her. Grandparents she had never met, cousins who were long dead or out of reach, siblings alive but unhappy with her marriage and countless others. Face upon face appeared before her eyes until finally, the images stopped. Her naneth and aunt had ended up tying Lothíriel’s hands to her bedpost, for in her panic she had attempted to claw her own eyes out._

 

_It would take her many months of meditation and limited exposure to other people before Lothíriel gained some measure of control over her gift. Aunt Ivriniel had become her rock during that trying period, for she had revealed that when she was a young girl, she too had a similar reaction when her own gift was activated. The one main but crucial difference, however, was that she had not hurt her head right after gaining her gift, and thus her reaction had been far milder than Lothíriel’s._

_“I hate this! I don’t want my gift anymore!” Lothíriel had sobbed into her pillow, frustrated with having to stay locked up in her room with only her aunt for company. She wanted to go outside and play with her brothers, ride her pony with her adar and sing to her family with her naneth._

 

_Worn tough hands had rubbed her back as the smell of fish stew had filled the room._

 

_“There, there, child. The Valar only give us obstacles they know we can overcome. Now eat up, the cook made you some stew in hopes that you might feel better.”_

 

_“But I hate my gift, aunt! It's useless and it hurts. What's so special about seeing family members and knowing whose alive?”_

 

_Lothíriel’s outrage had sparked such amusement from her aunt that it had only made Lothíriel more obstinate in not eating her stew._

 

_“Oh, I'm sure you'll find a purpose for your gift in due time. I know when I was a little girl, I too had a hard time figuring out what to do with my gift.”_

 

_Lothíriel had pouted before she threw her aunt a skeptical look at such a blatant lie._

 

_“You? But you're the most important Lady in Arda! You bring people together and have them fall in love!”_

 

_Aunt Ivriniel had taken Lothíriel’s left hand and gently rubbed it before massaging each finger carefully._

 

_“You may think it is obvious now, but when I was a little girl, I wasn’t sure what I could do with the gift to see strings of colour connecting people from their hands. Trying to untangle those strings so I could see them better made my head hurt, especially when there were a lot of people nearby...”_

 

_Lothíriel noticed that her aunt had stopped talking to take a closer look at her hand, specifically her little finger. Puzzled at the odd action, Lothíriel watched as her aunt seemed to track an invisible string towards the window._

 

_Trying to get her aunt’s attention, Lothíriel remembered how her naneth would prompt her brothers during dinner, to get them to talk about their day._

 

_“They're strings that connect people to their special someone, right?”_

 

_“Well actually -”_

 

* * *

 

 

“Lothíriel? What on earth are you doing outside in this weather?”

 

Snapping out from her memories of the past, Lothíriel quickly turned to see her Aunt Ivriniel addressing her from the doorway. Her silver streaked hair was pulled back into a tight bun, covered by her dark blue shawl which swayed in the wind. It was a lovely contrast to the matronly dark gray dress covered with a silk sleeveless surcoat embroidered with pearls and swans.

 

‘I wonder why Aunt Ivriniel never married? She’s still a beautiful looking woman, even if she is much older than adar.’

 

“Come in quickly! You’ll catch your death standing out there!”

 

Lothíriel soon found herself sitting beside a warm fire as her aunt served some fragrant herbal tea.

 

“Drink this, it’ll warm you right up. Now if you’ll excuse me for a moment sweetling, I have a few things to do before we can talk.”

 

Sipping delicately, Lothíriel watched her Aunt Ivriniel write a quick note for her parents, as she waited for a servant to deliver it. After it was taken away, Lothíriel set aside her teacup to follow her aunt admiringly as she began walking from room to room, deciding on the final touches of that evening’s dinner menu, directing a host of maids to prepare the guest bedroom for Lothíriel while reminding the servants to double check for any windows not barred against the oncoming storm. Finishing with her duties, her aunt steered them back into her personal sitting room, with a fresh batch of tea waiting for them.

 

“I sent a note to your parents, letting them know that you’ll be staying with me until the storm passes. Prepare yourself for extra mothering on your return, from your mother. You know how she misses you when you're away from her.”

 

Smiling gratefully, Lothíriel waited patiently for her aunt to finish drinking another sip from her perfectly steeped tea.

 

“As much as I love your visits, dear niece, you rarely visit me simply because you miss me.”

 

Hesitating to speak her thoughts on Damrod of Minas Tirith, the guilt she still bore over the whole matter holding her back, she instead decided to touch on another topic on her mind lately.

 

“Well, as you know I went to Minas Tirith and presented my gift to Lord Denethor...”

 

“Yes, I had heard you had caused a bit of a _stir_ among the Court.” Aunt Ivriniel wryly smiled over her teacup, as Lothíriel blushed in embarrassment.

 

“Ahem...Yes, well, I found myself being told by both the Steward and the Ladies of Court that my gift could make me like you Aunt Ivriniel.”

 

“You’ve known for years that _certain_ people of nobility would want you to help broker alliances and engagements. Is there a point to this conversation?”

 

Staring at the empty cup before her, Lothíriel sighed softly in confusion.

 

“.... I don’t know if I want to be the next Matchmaker of Gondor.”

 

“Then don’t be.”

 

Starting up in surprise, Lothíriel could only stare, as her aunt laughed lightly at her expression.

 

“No need to make such a face! Knowing my good brother, he probably just mentioned it in a mocking tone. Hardly a command for you to follow in my footsteps.”

 

Lothíriel continued to gape unbecomingly as her aunt turned her gaze towards Lothíriel’s hands, her light grey eyes turning nearly white with power.

 

“No... I don’t believe you will ever share my fate.”

 

Not wanting to disturb her, Lothíriel tried to hold in all the questions and thoughts that had sprung to mind at hearing her words.

 

‘What do you see? Do I have a special someone? Am I destined to remain in Dol Amroth or do my strings tie me to Minas Tirith?’ It felt like eons to Lothíriel before her aunt’s eyes turned back into their familiar light grey colour.

 

“I can see you straining yourself to stay quiet, my child. Speak. I will answer what I am able.”

 

Trying to choose her words carefully, Lothíriel prayed that her aunt would be in an informative mood. Her gift to see strings and who they tied together could cause much trouble if talked about carelessly. Unfortunately, it seemed Lothíriel’s own gift was similar in that regard.

 

“Tell me...do my strings tie me to a special someone? Or am I to be alone?” Lothíriel bit back the ‘Like you.’  part of the question. No need to stir up more trouble than necessary if she wanted answers.

 

While slightly childish to voice, a part of Lothíriel couldn’t help but long to be blessed with the same happiness as her naneth and adar. They had initially been formally introduced in the Court of Dol Amroth, but it had been her aunt that had pushed them into a match. It was her word that had made her grandfather choose Lady Aeardîs, instead of another equally wealthy and noble Lady of Minas Tirith, to be the Heir of Dol Amroth’s bride.

 

Ever since that fateful day, her aunt had become known as the most skilled Matchmaker in all of Gondor. Any Lord or Lady she made matches for, ended up being very compatible, if not in love, then happy with each other. With her gifts and judgement, there had been a decrease in scandals concerning infidelities and bastard children in Dol Amroth among the younger couples. The older couples, her aunt had told her naneth, were too set in their ways to be changed so easily. She hoped that with the positive example of the younger nobility, they would learn to adapt and keep their shameful vices to a minimum.

 

Snapping back to the present, Lothíriel fidgeted slightly as the silence between them grew.

 

‘Did I ask the wrong thing…?’

 

“...That is a bit complicated to answer. The easy answer would be ‘no’. While I see strings tying you to many people, some you know and love, and others you have yet to meet, I don’t see you in love with anyone right now.” Her aunt glanced out the shut window before refocusing on Lothíriel.

 

“...That’s the easy answer, so does that mean there is more to it than just that?” Huffing softly at the sight of her aunt smiling cloyingly, Lothíriel tried changing tactics. “You once told me that each string is a different colour, which has different meanings.”

 

It had been when she had been confined to her rooms, still struggling to control her abilities and begging for anything to distract her from her dark moods. Using her embroidery threads, her aunt had explained how through the mastery of her gift she had learned what meanings were tied to the colours.

 

‘Green for friendship, blue for family, yellow for admiration, purple for loyalty, red for love, orange for compatibility, brown for enemies, white for destined, grey for waning relationships and black for broken bonds.’ Lothíriel thought.

 

“You remember well, my child.” Reaching over the small tea table, Aunt Ivriniel clasped her hands into a firm grip, “I see the blue strings that tie you to our family and the green strings that scatter throughout Dol Amroth.”

 

Lothíriel couldn’t help but feel disappointed that only family and friendships strings were tied to her. A small part couldn’t help but hope that maybe she had something more to look forward to.

 

“Is that all you see?”

 

“...No.”

 

Heart fluttering at the low reply, she looked up to see her aunt staring at her with a serious look on her face.

 

“You have two white strings tying you to a distant land … _away_ from Gondor.”

 

A hush fell upon them as they both contemplated what it meant that the Princess of Dol Amroth would be destined to meet people, not from Gondor.

 

‘Maybe they’ll be foreign princesses who will be married into my family? Or a prince with lots of wealth to help fight in the war?’ Remembering her naneth’s story, Lothíriel silently admitted to herself the third and most likely possibility, ‘...Or a lord who would make a suitable husband.’

 

“What does that mean Aunt?”

 

“It means that you are destined to meet two people.” Aunt Ivriniel said matter-of-factly.

 

A flash of annoyance flickered through Lothíriel before she could wrangle it back under control. A small huff of amusement broke her concentration as Aunt Ivriniel squeezed her hand one last time before letting go.

 

“Don’t look so upset child. Remember that the colours can and will change as you go through life. Friendships can bloom into compatibility, or admiration can grow into love. Being destined to meet doesn’t mean you will be friends with them or love them. For all, you know they could be your worst enemies.”

 

Lothíriel delicately took a biscuit and chewed in thought at all the possibilities these two strings could mean for her.

 

“I know many talk about ‘true love’ and ‘destined soulmates’, but in my experience, one can start with friendship and end up with true love over time. All my reading and predictions can be for naught if you don't put in the _effort_ to work on the relationships.”

 

Her aunt's slight huff of frustration broke her musings, bringing her attention back to the present.

 

“It's one of the reasons I can't claim to be able to _guarantee_ happiness in the relationships I broker. If they're not willing to work on the relationship, then no matter how favourable or compatible they are, it will all end up with gray and black strings.”

 

Grey eyes met silver, as her aunt used her gift to look at Lothíriel, the air between them thickening.

 

“Promise me, Lothíriel, that no matter what, you will work on the relationships you have. Don't be idle and take comfort in my words but instead use them to improve the foundations you have built. Don't make the mistake others have and assume they'll take care of themselves.”

 

“I-I promise.”

 

Shaken slightly be the encounter, Lothíriel took a calming sip from her lukewarm tea.

 

‘Aunt’s right, I should try and work on what I have right now instead of dreaming on some possible meeting in the future.’

 

* * *

 

 

“Now that we are on the topic of marriages and relationships, I feel it is my duty to tell you _personally_... I have just finished brokering an arranged marriage for your brother, Elphir. They will be having a short six-month engagement so that they'll be able to get married on midwinter, a most lucky day to secure the future of our bloodline. It will also be a beautiful way to start a new year and give the common folk something to look forward to celebrating.”

 

Shock ran through her as Lothíriel tried to swallow the fact that soon her oldest brother would be married. She always knew that one-day Elphir would have to marry. As heir to the Princedom of Belfalas, he has a duty to secure the family with his own heir. Still. She had never thought that the day would arrive so soon.

 

“Who is she? My good sister, to be?”

 

“Lady Eirien of Dol Amroth, her father is Lord Túon. I think you met him once as a child, though he's not a very big political player. He is a good man who cares diligently over his sickly wife.”

 

Such devotion was not commonly shown so ardently in any Gondorian Court. Lord Túon must be a very good man, so hopefully, that meant he'd have a good daughter.

 

“Their daughter was sent away to Minas Tirith so her education wouldn't suffer on how to be a proper lady, though that means she probably hasn't been taught much on the political landscape of Dol Amroth and how to manage a seaside home. Remind me to pen a note to your mother later regarding that.”

 

Lothíriel learned that she'd be meeting her good sister in about a week’s time with her family at a formal dinner. After that though, Lothíriel would be staying with her aunt till the wedding. Though Aunt Ivriniel claimed that they knew she was a mature girl for her age, the bride had requested that Lothíriel and Amrothos not be present so that the courting process could develop easier.

 

Since it was such a small request, the family had agreed and Amrothos would be going with the Swan Knights to Minas Tirith to join their cousin Boromir on his first campaign. He, of course, was ecstatic to be joining such a campaign and had no complaints, though apparently, her naneth had been concerned about how his sea-longing would affect him during his absence.

 

Lothíriel couldn't help but feel a bit resentful that this Lady she hadn't even met yet had decided to banish her from her own home for six months and that _her_ family had agreed. While she loved learning and being in her aunt’s presence, she was a bit concerned that this request was a sign of how things would be in the future with Lady Eirien as part of the family. If so, then Lothíriel was not pleased with such an addition.

 

Finishing their tea, Aunt Ivriniel decided that since she would be remaining as a guest for the evening, she should not only practice her studies but her gift. The storm had started to hit them hard during their talk, with the sea roaring its discontent in the background.

 

Taking her under her wing, Lothíriel spent the remaining of the afternoon practicing on how to manage a household during a storm and what she should check to ensure her home is properly prepared for such weather.

 

Afterwards, they made their way to the private study where Lothíriel looked deep into their lineage over and over.

 

“Seeing their faces and instinctively knowing their relationship with each other is all well and good but now you must try and find their names as well. Then you can _really_ use this knowledge to your advantage.”

 

Blinking wearily at her aunt, Lothíriel looked once more and _saw_ \- grey eyes, black hair, long faces- Focus! Focus on _one-person_ Lothíriel! - A man, strong and tall, worn by war and grief -- _Who_ is that? - a leader of men, no… A _Prince_ of Dol Amroth. His name was...

 

“Prince Aglahad?”

 

Worn hands brushed sweaty bangs away from her tired face. Her aunt looked so proud at her, it made the pulsing pain in her head worth it.

 

“Well done. Your gift is strong and growing nicely, you must exercise it. Now, no complaints! One more time then we will break for dinner. From the beginning now…”

 

Dinner that evening was filled with lighthearted talks of family and gossip, her aunt was a strong believer in keeping Lothíriel aware of all the latest scandals and rumours. While Lothíriel would never hold her naneth’s position in Court, she would be expected to know how to maneuver and distribute that kind of gossip accordingly. Not all gossip was bad gossip, as Aunt Ivriniel liked to say.

 

“Such things will be vital for you, so you do not make another misstep as you did in Minas Tirith, sweetling.”

 

Rumours and gossip were needed, not only to manage the Courts but to know who was out of sorts with who. Things that would be important for her naneth and adar when negotiating with different Lords for supplies and soldiers.

 

After dinner, Lothíriel was taken to the music hall, where she had to spend hours and hours on the harp, practicing the traditional songs of Dol Amroth and other popular pieces of Gondor.

“Dol Amroth is known as the city with the best harpists in all of Gondor. As it’s princess you must be able to live up to such a reputation. Now, no more complaining! Start again from the first stanza and give it more _feeling_ , you are playing a love song, not a funeral piece.”

 

Losing herself in her music lessons, Lothíriel purged all the shame and stress that had been building up inside her. The more she poured herself into the melody the more vibrant the sound became. She could almost forget the escalation of the shadow, the rise of the battles in Gondor and the uncertainties she had for her future. At that moment there was solely music and a girl named Lothíriel.

 

* * *

 

 

A week went by quickly and the day of the formal meeting came with much anticipation and dread for the family. Lothíriel being the only one dreading it. Already her naneth had been preparing her move to her aunt’s, ensuring that the trunks would be ready for transport for the day after the formal dinner.

 

“Have Tuluen do your hair tonight, my flower. I'm afraid I won't have time to do it myself.”

 

Tuluen is her naneth’s personal handmaiden, and skilled in hairstyling. Her naneth must be especially eager to have Lothíriel look her very best for dinner.

 

By the time the sun set, Lothíriel was declared ready to face the bride-to-be and her family. Shoulders back and head held high, she was wearing her favourite sea green dress, with mother of pearl beads braided into the fitted sleeves and hem.  Her hair had been wrangled into an elegant braid that coiled into a bun. Tuluen had managed to weave a pretty sea green ribbon into the tresses, artfully kept in place with pearl pins. For the first time in a long while, Lothíriel felt like a proper princess.

 

“You look beautiful Thíri, Elphir's bride will be jealous.”  

 

Smiling up at Amrothos grinning face, she took his arm and made their way to the main hall.  She was confident that she looked every inch a princess should.

 

Not an hour later and all that self-confidence Lothíriel had felt in her room, had abandoned her.  

 

Lady Eirien was radiant in her light blue gown, the colour accenting her skin perfectly and the laced up, darker blue surcoat flattered her figure _generously_. The embroidered pattern and tight fitted silk enhanced and highlighted her figure in the candlelight. Amrothos had been unable to stop sneaking glances at her all through dinner and even Erchirion had looked her over twice. Elphir on the other hand, had a severe look on his face as if her beauty and fine manners had made him retreat more instead of open up. Lothíriel slumped her shoulders as she picked at her food, feeling very much like a child playing dress up, in her finery.

 

Laughter from her parents and the other lord and lady echoed in the hall, as they smiled and planned the wedding. Lord Túon was a jolly man who had reminded Lothíriel of a beloved uncle, while his wife, Lady Cílel, was a delicate thing, nearly translucent, with the same eyes as her daughter, a deep royal blue colour.

 

Looking up to catch Lady Eirien’s eyes, Lothíriel _gazed_ into her family line- Lord Túon standing proudly with his wife--alive and well as can be- lords and ladies with eyes of grey and blue, all devoted to their spouses, with nary a bastard within the 10 generations she could see. Feeling light headed from the rush of information and names, Lothíriel took a fortifying drink from her small glass of wine.

 

“Are you alright Princess Lothíriel?”

 

Lady Cílel truly was a sweet woman, while delicate in health, her entire presence was like her naneth’s in that they were sincere in their concern. No matter what they were doing, both could fill a room with warmth and acceptance. It was the one thing Lady Eirien didn't inherit from her parents, for even Lord Túon could set a room at ease. With his wit and jolly disposition, no bad humour could stay around him for too long. Her adar had smiled and laughed more with him in this one evening than any other evenings with other lords at his table.

 

“Yes, Lady Cílel. Just a mild headache, nothing a good pot of tea can't cure.”

 

Lady Eirien glanced at Lothíriel at that remark, before addressing her adar and naneth.

 

“Prince Imrahil, Princess Aeardîs, if I may be so bold as to suggest that perhaps Princess Lothíriel should retire early? I understand she is to leave tomorrow to Lady Ivriniel’s home, and I would hate for her to travel in discomfort when an early good night's rest could have lessened her pain.”

 

Indignation at Lady Eirien’s remark of banishing Lothíriel from her own table to bed, simply because of a small headache, infuriated her something fierce. Clenching her hands under the table, she sent a hard stare at her parents, silently begging them to not comply with her suggestion.

 

“Your kindness does you credit Lady Eirien, and your suggestion is most thoughtful. I agree with you, Lothíriel should retire to bed and rest for her journey tomorrow.”

 

Betrayal filled her heart, as she watched her adar nod and her naneth agree with that-that _interloper_ , on her suggestion. Grinding her teeth, Lothíriel gave her politest smile as her naneth continued.

 

“I’ll ring up a servant with a pot of ginger tea, so you'll be able to drink it while it's piping hot.”

 

“I recommend a spoonful of honey, Princess Aeardîs. My mother always makes it that way for me.”

 

Lady Eirien sent a fond look to her waif-like mother, both smiling softly at each other while her parents looked on in approval. The injustice truly was too much for Lothíriel to bear.

 

Saying her goodbyes to the visiting Lord and Lady, and goodnights to her family, she managed to calmly leave the hall before stomping her way to her chamber. Biting her lower lip in frustration she made it to her room and threw herself upon her bed where she screamed into her pillows. She had been outmaneuvered, treated as a child and banished so easily that it startled her on how her family had so quickly agreed.  

 

Lothíriel wouldn't be able to talk about this with anyone, for Lady Eirien had been polite, respectful and charming throughout the whole dinner. No one would believe Lothíriel should she describe her as cold and distant, with a strong grip over her family.

 

Bemoaning her future fate of living in the same castle as her, Lothíriel decided that the only thing she could hope to do was avoid her and keep to her aunt's home. When the maid arrived with the tea, Lothíriel spitefully refused the spoonful of honey and drank it all in one gulp. Curling under her covers, she prepared herself for a long fitful sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Arda – The World  
> Dol Amroth - Capital of the province of Belfalas in Gondor, a combination of Dol “head, hill” and the name Amroth, hence: “*Hill of Amroth”.  
> Gondor - The name Gondor was likely adopted from the lesser people's terminology and translates from Sindarin as "Stone-land", from the words gond, "stone", and (n)dor, "land". Gondor received its name because of the abundance of stone in the Ered Nimrais, and the usage of it in great stone cities, statues, and monuments, such as Minas Tirith and the Argonath.  
> Minas Tirith - 'Tower of Watch', the great 'home' of Finrod, a fort built on an island in Sirion and intended to command access into Beleriand from the North  
> Adar - Father  
> Naneth – Mother  
> Valar – The Valar are a group of immensely powerful spirits guarding the world on behalf of its Creator; they are sometimes called Gods (as when Valacirca, q.v., is translated "Sickle of the Gods"), but this is strictly wrong according to Christian terminology: the Valar were created beings.  
> gifts – refers to the powers/abilities manifested from the blood of an elvish/human union  
> Sea-touched gift – refers to abilities tied to the sea/water  
> Sea-longing – Symptoms that arise when a bearer of a sea-touched gift is away from the sea for too long.  
> High Lords of Gondor – Prominent noblemen with the most influence and wealth in all of Gondor.  
> Ladies of the Court – Noblewomen with influential families, great wealth and status who influence fashion, politics and marriages
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you to everyone who has favourited/followed/reviewed this fic! I hope you continue to enjoy! Feedback is appreciated! Happy Holidays!


	3. Early Years: Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I edited Chapter 1& 2 a few days ago. Plus I added a Glossary to make things a bit easier. Thank you again for reading, Liking and commenting! It really helps me write :D

** Chapter 3: T.A. 3010 **

* * *

 

It was not even three months into living with her aunt that Lothíriel heard the news. Her uncle had just released Amrothos from his two-month campaign with Boromir and considered it a success in improving morale. Therefore, he had decided that Elphir would now join her cousin Boromir in one of his campaigns near Osgiliath. Since Osgiliath was so close to the Anduin river, Elphir’s sea-longing symptoms wouldn’t act up and, to quote her uncle, “He would then not be a burden to Minas Tirith’s finest captain while being able to make use of his gift for the benefit of Gondor.”

 

Her brother had been tasked to leave before dawn in the next few days, leaving Lothíriel with little opportunity to say goodbye to him.

 

‘As if I would let a little thing like not living with my family anymore, stop me from saying goodbye to my brother!’ Sneaking her way into the stables, Lothíriel perked up when she heard Elphir’s voice nearby.

 

“Brother!”

 

She smiled, as she threw herself into his arms, she was so glad that she wasn’t too late.

 

“Thíri? What are you doing here dressed like a kitchen maid?... and why is your face so dirty?”

 

Peering up at his face, Lothíriel smiled proudly at how surprised her brother looked.

 

“Convincing right? I...er _borrowed_ this from one of the scullery maids and pulled my hair back in a simple, messy bun. Once I added some ashes to my face no one looked twice as I made my way here!”

 

Elphir sighed deeply as he gently pushed her away. Crouching down so their eyes were level, her brother scolded her firmly, as he wiped the dirt off her face.

 

 “Lothíriel, you are a princess of Dol Amroth, you can’t just do things like this. You don’t just represent yourself through these actions, but the entire family. Remember that before you decide on any more hair brain schemes of yours next time.”

 

Smile fading, Lothíriel felt herself hunch in at his words, as she lowered her gaze to the floor.

 

“Yes, brother. I’m sorry.”

 

He sighed once more before planting a tender kiss on her forehead and pulling her in for another hug.

 

“Even though what you did wasn’t proper...I’m happy I saw you one more time before I left.” Lothíriel felt his grip tighten before he pulled away to give her a small smile, “I’ll miss you Thíri.”

 

 Sadness filled her heart, as she stared at his tired looking face. Grasping his shirt, Lothíriel pleaded for him to change his mind about leaving.

 

“Elphir do really you have to go? Don’t you have to get married soon?”

 

Gently untangling her hands from his shirt, her brother pulled away to finish adjusting his saddle.

 

“The wedding is still a few months away, and the campaign will only last for two. I’ll be back home before you know it.”

 

Handing him his oilskin cloak, Lothíriel continued to try and talk him out of going.

 

“Aunt Ivriniel says you should be trying to get to know your bride first before going off on campaigns.”

 

Her brother side-eyed her in annoyance, before continuing to adjust his things. His actions grew more rigid as his voice got a little louder.

 

“As heir, there are certain duties I can’t put off no matter how much I would like to, besides…”

 

Lothíriel inched closer to him as he paused to glance at the north tower of their castle, then towards the direction of the shipyard, before turning back to check the straps of his saddle.  

 

“…I’m sure Lady Eirien won’t even miss me.”

 

“Brother?”

 

He shook his head before sliding onto his horse. 

 

“It’s nothing…do not worry about it. Now, go back to our aunt’s house Thíri, before anyone notices that you are gone.”

 

“Wait!”

 

Biting her lips nervously, Elphir turned the horse to face her, as she curtsied deeply before saying the traditional farewell.  

 

“Safe travels brother. May your joys be as deep as the ocean and your troubles as light as foam.”

 

Giving her a proud look at her words, Elphir finished the blessing.

 

“And may you find peace of mind, dear sister, wherever you may roam.”

 

Beaming at his words, she gave another curtsey as he again looked away towards the direction of the shipyard. Giving his head one last shake, he smiled down at her before making his way to the rest of the troops.

 

Lothíriel watched silently as Elphir made some final rounds before departing the city. She felt herself grow colder as her brother and his men faded off into the distance.

 

‘Why does this feel like the calm before the storm?’  she wondered, slowly walking back to her aunt’s house. A sudden noise startled her into hiding behind a pillar, as she peered at who was making their way down the path.   

 

Amrothos, returning from his morning excursion with the sailors, was cheerfully whistling and breaking into song as he jogged towards the castle.

 

‘Thank the Valar, it’s just Amrothos.’ Sighing in relief that it wasn’t someone important, Lothíriel straightened and walked out from the shadow of the pillar, opening her mouth to call out to her brother.

 

Feeling herself freeze at the sight before her, Lothíriel swallowed painfully as she tried to grasp some understanding.

 

Amrothos had stopped jogging and was staring up towards the north tower, watching as Lady Eirien brushed her hair from the window. She seemed to be blind to her brother’s intense gaze, as she stared off into the distance.  Amrothos eyes roamed over her face, with a look that made Lothíriel’s heart drop to her stomach.

 

‘That gaze looks…hungry.’

 

Shaking her head in denial, Lothíriel slowly made her way back into the shadows of the pillar. Just as she had hidden her body from sight, she accidentally stepped on a dry twig, causing it to loudly snap and catch Amrothos attention.

 

“Who's there?!”

 

Covering her mouth with her hands, Lothíriel stayed as still as possible, as her brother began to move closer to the pillar. Her heart was beating wildly in panic as his footsteps got louder.

 

“Amrothos? What are you doing?”

 

‘Erchirion!’  Relief flooded her in waves at the sound of her brother’s voice.

 

“I thought I heard something…”

 

Holding her breath as Amrothos voice grew louder, Lothíriel prayed that Erchirion would call him back and away from her spot.

 

“Probably just a small animal. Come inside for breakfast, naneth and adar are expecting us.”

 

 Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lothíriel heard Amrothos walking away.

 

“Yeah…I am starving.”

 

Her knees lost all strength at the sound of the door closing behind her brothers, as she slid down the pillar and onto the floor.

 

‘What-What was _that_?’

 

Slowly pulling her hands away from her mouth, Lothíriel wondered on what exactly she had just seen.

 

‘That look on his face…I’ve never seen him make that face before.  C-could Amrothos be…’

 

Dread filled her as she recalled Elphir’s odd behaviour during their talk about his future bride.

* * *

 

_Elphir paused to glance at the north tower of their castle, then towards the direction of the shipyard, before turning back to check the straps of his saddle._

_“…I’m sure Lady Eirien won’t even miss me_.”

* * *

 

‘No…it can’t be.’ Slapping her hands against her cheeks, Lothíriel shook her head vigorously. Swallowing against the nauseous sensation in her stomach, she continued her journey back to her aunt’s house.  

 

‘There is no chance that Amrothos could be … that he would…’

 

Unable to finish her thought, Lothíriel prayed to all the Valar that there was some mistake and she was misunderstanding the situation. 

 

‘If I’m right…if what I saw is what I think it is … then I pray that my family survives this upcoming storm.’

 

* * *

 

With the weather turning colder, Aunt Ivriniel moved her monthly tea parties from the garden to a beautifully furnished room that faced the seaside, giving the ladies who visited a beautiful view of the sea’s horizon.

 

Lothíriel’s naneth had sent word that she would be joining them for tea that afternoon, causing the castle servants to bustle as they prepared everything in record time. Unfortunately for Lothíriel, her joy at seeing her naneth again faded as soon as she realized that she had brought Lady Eirien with her.

 

“Welcome Princess Aeardîs, Lady Eirien, it has been far too long.” Her aunt greeted them both while curtsying, silently prompting Lothíriel into following suit.

 

“Please good sister, there is no need for formalities today. After all, in a few short months, Lady Eirien will be my new daughter.”

 

Her naneth looked elegant in a sea-blue gown with delicate pearl buttons along the fitted sleeves, underneath a voluminous sideless surcoat of rich dark blue silk patterned with silver embroidery. Her hair was pinned back in her favoured formal hairstyle - braided and encircling her head like a crown, with not a hair out of place. The silver circlet she wore for less formal occasions gleamed against the dark braid.

 

In contrast, Lady Eirien was clearly influenced by her time in Minas Tirith and the more subdued hues that the court there favoured; she wore a dove-grey gown with a high collar and elegantly embroidered sleeves, with a darker grey brocade surcoat over it. Her hair was elaborately braided in an updo and partly covered by a dark grey veil. While the look was still flattering to Eirien's figure, Lothíriel couldn’t help but notice that it was a far more modest cut and style than the dress she had worn to the dinner all those nights ago.

 

“And how have you been settling in Lady Eirien? I hope you haven’t been too lonely since Elphir left.”

 

Her aunt gave Lothíriel’s naneth a pointed look, even though her question was directed at Lady Eirien. Judging by the long-suffering look on her naneth’s face, Lothíriel guessed that this has been a point of contention between them since her brother had gone off to Osgiliath.

 

“Oh no, milady. Princess Aeardîs has been kind enough to instruct me in the mornings and Prince Amrothos has been kind enough to give me short tours around the city. Lord Erchirion has been a wonderful chaperon to these tours, of course.” She said, taking a graceful sip of her tea before continuing, “And the other Ladies of the Court have warmly welcomed me to their dinners and tea parties. To be frank, I’ve been far too busy to be lonely.”

 

Though Lady Eirien was all politeness and grace, something about the look in her eyes made Lothíriel question the sincerity of her remarks.

 

‘With eyes so cold and expressionless, she appears more like a beautiful doll.’

 

“Excellent, busy hands keep trouble at bay, as my late father used to say.” Praised her aunt, smiling broadly at Lady Eirien.

 

“And how have you been, Thiri? Your adar and I miss you.” Naneth’s warm eyes banished Lothíriel’s dark thoughts and brightened her mood once more.

 

“I have been fine, naneth. Aunt Ivriniel is an excellent teacher and taskmaster. Under her tutelage, I have even managed to improve my gift!” Lothíriel preened under the attention her naneth and aunt were giving her. Both wore expressions of pride and fondness at her words.

 

“My, that is an impressive accomplishment. You must be excited to be learning under Lady Ivriniel, considering your gift.” Lady Eirien smiled beatifically at her over her teacup. “It’s only right that the next great matchmaker of Gondor be taught by the current one.”

 

Lothíriel vaguely heard her naneth agree with Lady Eirien, as she gripped her teacup tightly. Subtly taking a breath, she reminded herself to hold her temper, that Lady Eirien had not said anything new, for every noble who found out about her gift mentioned the exact same thing.

 

“Actually, I am not sure if I wish to be a matchmaker at all. I know my gift would be considered a great boom in such a position, however – “

 

“Nonsense! What else would you use your gift for? Surely this is what the Valar want of you, why else would you be blessed with such a skill?”

 

Her nails bit into her palms, as Lothíriel tried to maintain a courteous smile. Her naneth had turned her head to ask Lady Eirien’s opinion on the various gifts that their family had, missing completely the flare of anger brewing under Lothíriel’s skin.

 

“I am honoured to enter such a blessed family of course. I just believe since we are all servants of Gondor, that our skills and talents should be used where they will bring the most reward to our people.”

 

“You are absolutely right, Lady Eirien. I have a similar belief myself and have always encouraged the growth of my children’s gifts in hopes that they’ll be able to use it in their duties as prince’s and princess of Dol Amroth.”

 

Lothíriel blinked back tears of frustration as she saw her naneth agree with Lady Eirien. Her heart hurt to see how close they had become, as she watched them both share a smile and continue to make small talk.  Lothíriel bit her lower lip, fuming with anger as Lady Eirien’s eyes grew warmer and softer the longer she spoke with her naneth.

 

‘Breathe Lothíriel, just breath. Don’t lose your temper, don’t make a scene. Focus.’

 

Lowering her gaze to the pot of tea before her, Lothíriel tuned out her naneth’s and Lady Eirien’s conversation and focused on her breathing.

 

“-of course, my husband’s gift is only able to be used during sparring and in the battlefield- “

 

“-yes? I’ve seen Prince Amrothos use his gift in one of my tours around the city. He reached into a pile of oysters and pulled out the one with a beautiful pearl inside- “

 

‘Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in- ‘

 

A weathered, old hand gently grasped her fisted hands and soothed the pain absentmindedly. Lothíriel looked up to see Aunt Ivriniel, stare unsmilingly at Lady Eirien and her naneth, showing her displeasure at their words. Her eyes were silver when she turned her gaze on Lothíriel, her eyes seeing Lothíriel’s relationships with her naneth and future good sister.  

 

Lothíriel noticed her aunt’s demeanour turn colder and more rigid as she stared long and hard at Lothíriel’s strings. Seeming to have come to a decision, Aunt Ivriniel interrupted her naneth’s chatter.

 

“Ladies, will you two be staying for dinner? I will be having the cook start preparations shortly.”

 

Her naneth and Lady Eirien both startled at the sudden question, before noticing how much time had passed during their talk.

 

“Thank you Lady Ivriniel but I’m afraid Lady Eirien and I are expected back for dinner.” Her naneth smiled and stood, prompting all of them to stand as well.

 

“Yes, thank you, my lady, for your company and the delicious tea.” Lady Eirien gave a perfect curtsey, once again wiping all emotion from her eyes.

 

Her naneth embraced Lothíriel fondly as she spoke into her ear.

 

“Remember Thiri, to have the traditional bridal gift ready for inspection in three months time.  Lady Eirien’s parents will be the ones to decide if your gift meets their approval.”

 

The traditional bridal gift, given to the bride by the sisters of her future husband. The only guidelines being that it must be made by the giver and given on the day of the wedding. Due to Lothíriel’s age and status, it was expected that her Aunt Ivriniel aid her in the making of the gift.

 

‘Is that why you agreed to have me stay with my aunt till the wedding, naneth?’ she puzzled while returning the embrace.

 

A few minutes later, and Lothíriel was once again alone with her aunt.

 

“Don’t take their words to heart, child. While your naneth is far more understanding than other people who have married into our line, even _she_ doesn’t understand the relationship we have with our gifts.” Her aunt brushed her stray curls away from her face while giving her a sympathetic look. “Only someone who has been burdened as we have can truly understand our struggle with them.”

 

Leaning into her aunt’s hand, Lothíriel wondered if her naneth truly meant her words.  After all, she had been the one who had cautioned her as a small child to not wish so strongly for her gift, due to the burden it could be.

 

“Aunt, do you ever wish to run away and find a secluded place away from other people?”

 

Her aunt pulled her into a warm hug as she laughed her reply into her ear.

 

“Why do you think I only host tea parties?”

* * *

 

Lothíriel was not against making the traditional bridal gift, per se. She had already gotten approval from Lord Túon and Lady Cílel to play an original piece on her harp, so long as it was appropriate for the wedding. Now, normally Lothíriel would have no trouble making up an original piece, as it was her favourite pastime. However, considering that the theme of the song must be centred around love and Lothíriel does not like the bride-to-be; the process has been slow going.

 

‘Thank the Valar I do not have to sing as well.’ She mused, plucking half-heartedly at her harp’s strings.

 

“What a sorry sounding tune. Is that the piece you are playing for your brother’s wedding?”

 

Her aunt smiled at her from the doorway, before entering further into the room and making herself comfortable with another harp nearby.

 

“Of course not. I am just lacking inspiration, Aunt Ivriniel,” Lothíriel admitted.

 

“Shall I play for you, my dear? Perhaps inspiration will strike you as you listen to me play.”

 

Nodding in agreement, Lothíriel closed her eyes as her aunt began to play “The Lay of Nimrodel”, a popular piece to sing with a small group of musicians at court. The song had been introduced to the court by a previous Princess of Dol Amroth, whose gift had been the ability to hear songs sung throughout Arda. She apparently went mad trying to write down and translate all the songs she could hear, and her writings are hidden away in her adar’s private library. This song was never completed due to her growing madness, but the tune became popular and was still being sung to this day.

 

‘Back then, our gifts were much stronger than they are now. It wasn’t uncommon for many princes and princesses of our family to be consumed by their gifts and die in madness.’ Lothíriel knew that the possibility to get consumed by her gift was very small, after all, it had been many generations since the last prince was consumed by his gift. With every marriage to a lesser bloodline, the weaker their gifts became, to the point that her Adar feels that their powers will only last for a few more generations before being completely lost.

 

“An Elven-maid there was of old, A shining star by day: Her mantle white was hemmed with gold, Her shoes of silver-grey. A star was bound upon her brows, A light was on her hair, As sun upon the golden boughs In Lórien the fair”

 

Lothíriel closed her eyes as her aunt’s husky and low voice washed over her in waves. Her aunt did not have a fashionable ‘bell sounding’ singing voice; still, there was something about it that kept a person hypnotized to hear more.

 

‘No wonder Lord Denethor allows Aunt Ivriniel to sing in his court.’

 

“Her hair was long, her limbs were white, and fair she was and free; And in the wind she went as light as leaf of linden-tree. Beside the falls of Nimrodel, by water clear and cool, her voice as falling silver fell into the shining pool. Where now she wanders none can tell, in sunlight or in shade; For lost of yore was Nimrodel and in the mountains strayed.”

 

The mystery, more than anything else, was what kept this song so popular. Lothíriel had heard many a noble family try and claim that they are descendants of Nimrodel’s children. That the House of Dol Amroth was not the only family descended from elves. Mithrellas, the elf whose blood gave her family it’s gifts, was Nimrodel’s companion and had gotten lost the woods of Dor-en-Ernil, where she was found by Imrazôr, father of the first Prince of Dol Amroth, who married her.

 

“The elven-ship in haven grey Beneath the mountain-lee, Awaited her for many a day, Beside the roaring sea. A wind by night in Northern lands Arose, and loud it cried, and drove the ship from elven-strands Across the streaming tide.”

 

‘The legends claim she was never seen again by man or elf…I wonder what happened to her.’  Lothíriel mused, softly playing the harmony to the piece.

 

“When dawn came dim the land was lost, the mountains sinking grey Beyond the heaving waves that tossed Their plumes of blinding spray. Amroth beheld the fading shore Now low beyond the swell and cursed the faithless ship that bore Him far from Nimrodel.”

 

‘Elves are said to be some of the most skilled sailors in the world, how strange that they would fall prey to not prepare for such a brutal storm.’ Lothíriel picked up the tempo as the piece changed into a more dramatic melody. 

 

“Of old he was an Elven-king, A lord of tree and glen, when golden were the boughs in spring, In fair Lothlórien. From helm to sea they saw him leap, As arrow from the string, And dive into the water deep, As mew upon the wing.”

 

‘What love he must have felt, to plunge into such dangerous waters for a chance to see her again.’ Lothíriel faltered slightly, before picking up the harmony once more. “The wind was in his flowing hair, the foam about him shone, afar they saw him strong and fair, Go riding like a swan. But from the West has come no word, and on the Hither Shore, no tidings Elven-folk have heard, Of Amroth evermore.”

 

Sighing softly as the last notes vibrated into the silent room, Lothíriel looked at the calm expression on her aunt’s face.

 

“Tragic isn’t it? How two people so in love couldn’t be together in the end. Grief drives people to do terrible things.”

 

Nodding in agreement, Lothíriel reflected on the tale. All she knew of elves was what she had learned from her governess and eavesdropping on her brothers with their tutors. They all spoke of how wise, graceful and otherworldly the Firstborn were; but in tales like these they appeared, at least to Lothíriel’s eyes, painfully human. Yet something about Nimrodel’s tale didn’t sound right to her. No matter how many times she had heard this story, something about it had always felt incomplete.

 

“Aunt Ivriniel?” She waited till she had her aunt’s full attention before finishing her question, “…was Nimrodel truly never seen again?”

 

Lothíriel swallowed quietly as the air suddenly got thick with tension. Her aunt had a look of distaste as she mulled over Lothíriel’s question.

 

“It would have been better for our family if Nimrodel had truly disappeared after she went through the White Mountains. Perhaps then we wouldn’t have gone through many years of learning about our gifts through trial and error.”

 

Curiosity flashed through her, as Lothíriel was gently pulled away from her harp and down the corridor towards her aunt’s room.

 

“Aunt Ivriniel…?”

 

“It’s time I told you the true tale of our ancestress and her husband. It is a story passed down in our family from mother to daughter for generations.”

 

Entering her aunt’s room, Lothíriel noted how modestly it was furnished, though the materials and furniture were of high quality. Standing by the bed, she watched as her aunt pulled out rolled up embroidered tapestries, Laying each one on top of each other on her bed.

 

“Your mother, while a kind woman, was not born into our family so she was never told the tale.” her aunt continued, stroking the image of two beautiful elf-maids dancing in a golden wood.

 

“No men in our family ever learn this tale, as it has been a kept secret since Gilmith, daughter of Mithrellas. She swore to her mother to never tell her father or brother the truth of her disappearance and the fate of Nimrodel.”

 

Leaning forward, she noticed that the tapestry’s background was decorated with small precious gems, beaded to highlight the splendour and wealth of what could only be the famous elvish kingdom, Lothlórien. The trees had fine threads of gold woven into it with small green gems decorating the leaves. The flowers on the forest floor were small red and blue gems woven intricately into place. One elven maid had hair the colour of starlight, with a dress that looked to be made of moonbeams, the younger, on the other hand, had hair the colour of gold with a dress that captured the colours of the sea.

 

‘This must be Nimrodel and Mithrellas.’ She mused, gently reaching out to stroke a corner of the tapestry. It was old but well cared for.

 

Looking up to her aunt’s smiling face Lothíriel asked, “But I though Mithrellas disappeared after the birth of her daughter Gilmith?”

 

“No, she didn’t but that’s how the story is remembered.” Pulling two chairs closer to the bed, Aunt Ivriniel beckoned Lothíriel to sit.  “Listen closely child, for this is the true tale of Mithrellas and Imrazôr…”

* * *

 

_Back in the days when Mithrellas lived in Lothlórien, she was one of the many elven maids who served the greater houses. The one she served had a daughter named Nimrodel, who lived by the river. She chose Mithrellas to be her close companion, as she was the youngest of the elven maidens and was very naïve about the world. Her innocence was endearing to Nimrodel and soothed her when the darkness of the outside world grew too great. Mithrellas flourished under her guidance and became like a treasured sister or daughter to Nimrodel._

_During this time, she had met the Elven King Amroth in one of her walks by the river, where he fell desperately in love with her and became her most ardent suitor. While Nimrodel loved him, she could not stand to marry him in a world where the growing darkness was tainting everything she loved. She was sensitive to the state of the world, and one day fled the city in fright with Mithrellas, when she sensed a great darkness awakening nearby the city. Her fear led both her and Mithrellas to the edge of the Fangorn forest, but the magic and wildness of the woods made her hesitant to enter it. Collapsing in grief, Nimrodel wept bitterly at the knowledge that there was nowhere for her and Mithrellas to run away to. King Amroth found them there a few days later, Nimrodel still staring into the Fangorn forest and Mithrellas trying to soothe her mistress. Her beloved was so moved by her grief that he swore he would bring her to the Undying Lands and revoked his kingship in the process. Amroth chose some faithful retainers to bring along their journey, while Nimrodel solely chose Mithrellas._

_Their journey went smoothly, with Mithrellas noting that with each passing day Nimrodel grew happier. She led the group in song and answered Mithrellas’s questions on the sea, for Mithrellas had learned to love all bodies of water while serving Nimrodel.  Unfortunately, these times of peace and happiness could not last, for one-day tragedy struck the group while they were travelling through the White Mountains. A great storm brought down the mountain, splintering the group until Mithrellas found herself alone. Frightened and upset she somehow managed to escape the mountains and continue the journey. Her fondest wish was that she would be reunited with Nimrodel once she arrived at to Edhellond, the port city in Belfalas. Before she could reach her destination, she got lost in the woods of Dor-en-Ernil._

_Wandering for days, with dwindling hope, she came across a Númenórean, named Imrazôr. He led her out of the woods and was her companion on her way to Edhellond. At first, he frightened her with his stern demeanour and quiet ways, but soon she grew to find comfort in his steady presence. On their journey, she managed to coax out of him that he was a Prince of Belfalas and that his land had recently changed their name due to the death of an Elven King nearby. Horrified at such news, Mithrellas begged for more detail from Imrazôr; he told her of the tragic tale of the King waiting for his love on a ship that was swept away into the sea by a terrible storm. Unable to be separated from his love, the Elven King had jumped from the boat and attempted to swim ashore. Unfortunately, he never made it, as the waves were too powerful, and his strength had failed him. In honour of his death, the closest hill was renamed Dol Amroth. Making haste to reach Edhellond, Mithrellas asked the few elves still at the harbour what had happened to King Amroth and found proof that Imrazôr’s tale to be true. They asked her if she wanted passage to the Undying Lands, as another boat would be ready in about one year’s time._

_Unable to decide, she instead returned to Dol Amroth and asked Imrazôr if she could remain his guest till her mistress found her way to Edhellond. She truly believed that Nimrodel was still alive and would find her again. Agreeing to host her for a time, Mithrellas explored the human city with wonder. Nimrodel had always been disdainful of humans, blaming them for the growing darkness and aiding the evil to grow in the world; but with each passing day that she explored and learned in Dol Amroth, Mithrellas began to question the wisdom in her mistress’s words._

_The seasons passed and Nimrodel still did not appear, yet Mithrellas did not worry; for she had fallen in love with Imrazôr and had decided to marry him. His life was so much shorter than hers and she did not want to miss whatever time they had left together. Cornering him by the sea, she discovered that Imrazôr had long fallen in love with her but had been unwilling to tie her down to be with him. Finding her love returned, they married quickly and ruled for many seasons in peace and happiness. Eventually, she bore him a son, Galador, who would later become the first Prince of Dol Amroth. He was Mithrellas pride and joy, for she had believed that no child would come out of her union with Imrazôr. Her happiness doubled when a few years after, she became pregnant with a daughter, whom she named Gilmith. Her children had inherited her elvish blood and with-it special abilities that she named “gifts”. Mithrellas had begun to discuss with Imrazôr on how to train their children when Nimrodel finally appeared in_ _Edhellond._

_Maddened by the knowledge that Amroth was dead and that there were no more boats going to the Undying Lands, Nimrodel beckoned Mithrellas to come with her on another journey to find a way across the sea. Torn between the love for her family and the love for her mistress, Mithrellas begged Nimrodel to allow her to stay in Dol Amroth. Furious at being denied, Nimrodel called upon the Oaths she had sworn to her house, that Mithrellas would be in her service till the day came Nimrodel had no more need of her. Unable to go against her Oath, Mithrellas begged her mistress to allow her to return to her husband once they found a passage for Nimrodel to take across the sea. Moved by the love she still bore for her favourite companion, Nimrodel agreed. Too heartbroken to say goodbye to her husband and children, Mithrellas made plans to sneak out into the night, under the cover of the new moon. Gilmith, however, caught her as she was escaping the castle and learned the truth about her mother’s journey. Promising her daughter that she would be back in six months time and getting her daughters word that she wouldn’t tell her father or brother, Mithrellas left and met with Nimrodel at Edhellond._

_When Mithrellas left the castle, she took all joy and life with her; Prince Imrazôr buried himself in his work and training Galador into being the next prince. Galador and Gilmith struggled to find ways to master their gifts and wrote down all their successes and failures for their descendants. As the years went by and her mother didn’t return, Gilmith never found the courage to break the promise she had made to her mother. Gilmith never saw her mother again after that night, no matter how many years passed she never appeared again. On her deathbed, she decided to tell her brother’s daughter, in the hopes that her mother would return during her niece’s lifetime and someone in the family would know the true tale. As the story was retold over the years, it developed into a family tradition among the women of the family, passing it down from mother to daughter for generations._

* * *

 

Aunt Ivriniel’s voice softened as she finished the tale, revealing the last tapestry in the pile. An old woman was holding the hands of a much younger woman, in a beautifully old-fashioned bedroom. The blue and black gems in the background helped make the setting look even more forlorn, though the faint sparkle when the sun hit them just right, changed the mood to one of faint hope.

 

“My aunt, long dead before Finduilas was of age, made these for me,” A wistful note filled her aunt’s voice as Lothíriel watched her stroke the fabric fondly, “She had a sea-touched gift, which allowed her to scry using salt-water. She could only see into our family’s past, so her gift was deemed useless by the ruling Steward at the time.”

 

Lothíriel shifted closer, as they both began to put the tapestries away and roll them up for easy storage. Placing them into a chest under her aunt’s bed, Lothíriel noticed that there was another chest hidden there.

 

“Using her gift, she became the family scribe and created many tapestries of our history. I was gifted with the tapestries that depicted the story of our elven ancestress and the father of the First Prince of Dol Amroth,” she smiled down at Lothíriel before closing the chest shut, “and now dear niece, I am giving them to you.”

 

Eyes wide in disbelief, Lothíriel wondered what she had done to deserve such a gift.

 

“Your gift is like my aunt’s; she found great comfort in creating these beautiful pieces for the family. Perhaps they can inspire you in creating a love song worthy to be played at your brother’s wedding.”

 

‘Right. The bridal gift…’ With all that had happened Lothíriel had forgotten the reason her aunt had told her all this was because she had been struggling creating a love song for the wedding.

 

Thanking her aunt for her generosity, she followed the servants carrying the chest, to her current room. As the servants hung the tapestries on her wall, Lothíriel noticed her harp laying next to her bed and not in the music room.

 

‘Aunt Ivriniel can be so kind, I must remember to make something in return as a gift of gratitude.’ Smiling fondly, she made her way into her chair and tuned the strings before facing the tapestries once more. Picturing the story of Mithrellas and Imrazôr, she began to play.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary:  
> Arda – The World  
> Dol Amroth - Capital of the province of Belfalas in Gondor, a combination of Dol “head, hill” and the name Amroth, hence: “*Hill of Amroth”.  
> Lothlórien - 'Dream flower', the land of Galadriel.  
> Gondor - The name Gondor was likely adopted from the lesser people's terminology and translates from Sindarin as "Stone-land", from the words gond, "stone", and (n)dor, "land". Gondor received its name because of the abundance of stone in the Ered Nimrais, and the usage of it in great stone cities, statues, and monuments, such as Minas Tirith and the Argonath.  
> Edhellond - An Elvish haven in Belfalas, a compound of Edhel “Elf” and lond “haven”.  
> Minas Tirith - 'Tower of Watch', the great 'home' of Finrod, a fort built on an island in Sirion and intended to command access into Beleriand from the North  
> Undying Lands - "Undying Lands" seems to be a name that originated among Men. The Númenóreans, especially, envied the seemingly endless life of those who lived in these regions. The Undying Lands, which until that time had been part of the World, were removed forever from the reach of mortal Men, though the Elves could still sail West and come there, if they would.  
> Adar - Father  
> Naneth – Mother  
> Valar – The Valar are a group of immensely powerful spirits guarding the world on behalf of its Creator; they are sometimes called Gods (as when Valacirca, q.v., is translated "Sickle of the Gods"), but this is strictly wrong according to Christian terminology: the Valar were created beings.  
> gifts – refers to the powers/abilities manifested from the blood of an elvish/human union  
> Sea-touched gift – refers to abilities tied to the sea/water  
> Sea-longing – Symptoms that arise when a bearer of a sea-touched gift is away from the sea for too long.  
> Traditional Bridal Gift – A wedding gift to the bride by the sisters of her future husband. The only guidelines are; that it must be made by the giver and given on the day of the wedding.  
> High Lords of Gondor – Prominent noblemen with the most influence and wealth in all of Gondor.  
> Ladies of the Court – Noblewomen with influential families, great wealth and status who influence fashion, politics and marriages

**Author's Note:**

> So this is a new fic that I've been working on for a few months now. I can't promise any quick updates but there will be three parts to this story. This is gonna be a mixture of the movies and the books in regards to events and how they unfolded. I consider myself a novice in the LOTR fandom, so I apologize if I butcher any elvish words and names.
> 
> Thank you to SavioBriion and a few other amazing people who looked over this fic for me, they really helped improve my grammar and writing style. I hope you all enjoyed chapter one!  
> COMMENTS/QUESTIONS/INQUIRIES ARE WELCOME IN THE REVIEWS.


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